very strong temperance advocates, and Erica, who was
constantly out and about in the poorer parts of London, had realized
forcibly the terrible national evil, and was an enthusiastic temperance
worker.

Donovan, perhaps out of malice prepense, administered a good many dry
details about the management of coffee taverns, personal supervision,
Etzenberger's machines, the necessity of a good site and attractive
building, etc., etc. Erica only wished that Tom could have been
there, he would have been so thoroughly in his element. By and by the
conversation drifted away to other matters. And as Leslie Cunningham was
a good and very amusing talker, and Gladys the perfection of a hostess,
the dinner proved very lively, an extraordinary contrast to the dreary,
vapid table talk to which Erica had lately been accustomed. After the
ladies had left the room, Donovan, rather to his amusement, found
the talk veering round to Luke Raeburn. Presently, Leslie Cunningham
hazarded a direct question about Erica in a would-be indifferent tone.
In reply, Donovan told him briefly and without comment what he knew of
her history, keeping on the surface of things and speaking always with a
sort of careful restraint. He was never very fond of discussing people,
and perhaps in this case the realization of the thousand objections
to any serious outcome of Leslie's sudden admiration strengthened his
reserve. However, fate was apparently kinder though perhaps really
more cruel than the host, for Donovan was summoned into the library to
interview an aggrieved constituent, and Leslie finding his way to the
drawing room, was only too delighted to meet Gladys going upstairs to
see her children.

The lamps were lighted in the drawing room, but the curtains were not
drawn, and beside the open window he saw a slim, white-robed figure.
Erica was looking out into the gathering darkness. He crossed the room,
and stood beside her, his heart beating quickly, all the more
because she did not move or take any notice of his presence. It was
unconventional, but perhaps because he was so weary of the ordinary
young ladies who invariably smiled and fluttered the moment he
approached them, and were so perfectly ready to make much of him, this
unconventionality attracted him. He watched her for a minute in silence.
She was very happy, and was looking her loveliest. Presently she turned.

"I think it is the stillness which is so wonderful!" she exclaimed.

It was spok